Eight in the morning,
walking barefoot through the wet green
manicured grass of the golf course
surrounded by mist and fog,
destination: the track,
Halfway across the seventh hole
on our little Odyssey
the sprinklers come on.
So much for the Anthropology term paper
due tomorrow right after lunch.
We're off at a dead run,
drenched in ice water,
all the way to the path that rambles
toward the track.
Right fork and up over the hill
and we're nearly there.
Lori isn't wearing a bra this morning
and let's say I'm a bit, uh,
She looks over at me,
gives a shrug and a little laugh
and we keep going.
Soaked and shivering
but with dry socks and tennies
we warm up and take off.
It was Lori's idea
that we run the first lap backward.
It's becoming a custom,
That done with
we set out for five miles before
first hour--English Lit.
We were pretty well dried out
when we got back to the track.
The fog was disappearing
with the morning sun
and we could see the campus.
Quick spritz and change for class
and we walk, slowly,
gabbing on about
"Lady of the Lake"
by Sir Walter Scott.
It's a long, somewhat bumpy poem
but it's way better than "Ivanhoe",
one of Scott's weaker works,
the novel that was inflicted on us last term.
I buy the coffee at the Student Union,
(we take turns)
finish off Sir Walter,
Lori gives me a quick surprise hug,
and five minutes later
we wander into class
just as the bell rings.
Thank you all for thinking about me. 62 today. Hard pressed to believe it! It's been a tough month for me healthwise and the stupid bipolar taking my emotions on a roller coaster. I didn't expect anything and frankly, it's been a long time since I've paid much attention to birthdays. It's been like, "The more you have had the fewer you have left". Cynical, I know, but with all the ailments I've gone through and are going through, it's sometimes hard to pump yourself up. Thanks again. It helped. I do feel a bit better!